


Flynn & Jackson

by kuolema (salainen)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salainen/pseuds/kuolema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veteran officer and single father Flynn has just been assigned a new partner, brash young rookie Jackson. Can they work out their differences to keep Night Vale safe and under proper surveillance?</p>
<p>Or, the Sheriff's Secret Police put their spin on the buddy cop genre.</p>
<p>Originally written for/posted on the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains violence and coarse language. Reader discretion is advised.

### FLYNN

"Flynn!" barks the Commandant from his office. "Get in here!"

He complies. There's a rookie standing inside -- a white guy around Flynn's own height. Seems young, but it's hard to tell with the balaclava on. 

"Meet your new partner. Flynn, Jackson. Jackson, Flynn." Jackson has a good firm handshake. He gains a few points in Flynn's estimation. "Show him over to your desks and then get to work. Dismissed!"

Flynn, Jackson, and Jackson's box of office supplies quickly head over to the desks, as ordered. Jackson puts his stuff away quickly and neatly. He gains a few more points with Flynn.

"So, Jackson," Flynn starts. The rookie looks up from where he's setting up his desk-sized bloodstone circle. "This your first day?"

"As a part of the Sheriff's task force, yeah. I served in the normal department for six years before this, though. And of course I went to the Academy. Got my handbook right here!" He holds it up. Flynn remembers a time his own copy of The Book was so pristine, instead of being dog-eared and covered in blood.

What a Boy Scout this one is. Flynn's always hated breaking rookies of their too-strict adherence to rules and procedures, and by the sound of it, Jackson's going to be a hard nut to crack.


	2. Chapter 2

### JACKSON

There's a picture of a girl in Flynn's wallet. He saw it when he took it out to pay for the coffee (Jackson got the last round, of course).

"Who's the girl?" he asks as they drink the coffee on the hood of the cruiser. Or at least, Jackson's on the hood, his feet on the bumper. Flynn's standing on the ground, leaning on it.

"What?"

"The girl. In your wallet."

Flynn just stares at him.

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to rat you out for sharing personal details. So, who is she?"

"My daughter," says Flynn, grudgingly.

"Cute kid. How old is she?"

"You drawing up a profile, Jackson?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to be friendly."

"That'll get you into trouble one day, kid. And not only with the Commandant or the Sheriff, either."

"You're not telling me you didn't know anything about your last partner."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Never even saw her with her balaclava off. A real by-the-book officer, just like everyone in this town. Except for you, apparently."

"Bullshit. I've been on the force for a month and I already know Vasquez and Simmons are married and Lopez, Taylor, and Kaczinsky are on the same bowling-and-exorcism team. Don't give me that."

Flynn sputters. "How do you know that already?"

Jackson grins. "I've got eyes, ears, and a brain. Admit it, you'd be worried if I _didn't_ know. Make me a pretty lousy cop."

"Good point."

They drink their coffee in silence for a few minutes.

"So, you gonna tell me about her or not?"

### FLYNN

Maybe Jackson wasn't as much a goody-two-shoes as he originally thought. Observant, too. He gives him a few more points of esteem in his mental tally. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he's never known anyone who's climbed his personal friendship ladder as high and as quickly as Jackson. Not even poor dead Buchanan, who died in that unfortunate scuba accident after seven years as his partner.

He hopes Jackson only uses this ability for benevolent, or at least benign, purposes.

"Her name's Tamika," he says, trying to keep his voice and expression neutral, but nevertheless he can feel the involuntary smile of fondness that he always gets when he talks about his daughter creeping across his face. Jackson smiles back, white teeth filling the mouth-hole of his balaclava. "She's twelve."

"Wait a minute, Tamika Flynn? Your daughter? I heard about her on the news a while back! Didn't she drop a librarian?"

"That's her," Flynn says, beaming. "I taught her everything she knows. Even the part about reading. Had to, after her mother was bisected."

"Damn," says Jackson with a low whistle. "You must be one hell of a father."

Jackson climbs a few more rungs. Damn him.


	3. Chapter 3

### JACKSON

"JACKSON!" bellows Flynn from across the room. "I NEED YOU TO HIT IT _NOW_!"

"I'M WORKING ON IT!" he shouts back, fumbling with his pistol. Of course it would need reloading just as the two of them have discovered its weak point, and of course exposing it means Flynn's in a tight spot.

"WORK ON IT FASTER, DAMMIT!"

"FLYNN! I'M GOING AS FAST AS I FU-- THERE, HANG ON!"

He lets off a shot, right into the beast's soft underbelly. It explodes quite violently, showering Big Rico's Pizza in stewed tomatoes and other pizza-related entrails, and most importantly, dropping Flynn. In the corner, a man in a labcoat looks around desperately for something sauce-free to clean his glasses. His date, a man in a sequined blouse, reaches over and pulls a chunk of green pepper out of his hair.

"Jackson, would you fill out the wheat and wheat by-products citation form? I'm in no mood to do the paperwork right now."

"Jesus, Flynn, you're fine."

"You say that now. Wait until you're forty-seven and get tossed on the ground by a debatably-sentient pizza."

Jackson rolls his eyes, but fills out the form anyway. They walk back to the station, neither one wanting to ruin the car's upholstery with marinara sauce.


	4. Chapter 4

### FLYNN

"I can't believe you eat that crap," Flynn says. They're parked outside of Old Woman Josie's house today, surveilling her and the Erikas while they watch _Wheel of Fortune_ together (COCKTAIL ONION. "Dang it, Erika, I've told you a hundred times, looking through the fabric of spacetime for the answers is cheating!" SORRY, MISS JOSIE.) Jackson's eating an uncooked block of ramen while he observes.

"What? Tastes good, it's cheap, and I didn't have to cook it."

"I'm pretty sure you're _supposed_ to, though."

"Maybe, but it tastes fine like this."

"My objection had nothing to do with the way it tastes, you idiot. I'm trying to keep you from getting food poisoning, or worse. Didn't you hear about that guy who ate uncooked noodles and then they turned into snakes in his gut?"

"That only happened once."

"Doesn't matter. And I should be haulling you in just for having those."

"Yeah, but you're not going to."

"And why is that?"

"You like me too much," he says, biting into his ramen brick with an infuriatingly smug grin.

"Fuck off. And if you won't change your heathen diet ways, I'll change them for you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm going to have you over for dinner, and then I'm going to teach you how to make something you're actually supposed to eat."

"It's a date. And to think, a few weeks ago you wouldn't even admit you had a kid. Now you're going to let me meet her. You're coming along nicely, Flynn."

"Shut up, rookie."


	5. Chapter 5

### JACKSON

He debates for about half an hour about whether he should wear a tie, and another forty-five minutes on whether he should wear his balaclava or not. 

He decides tie yes, balaclava no.

He's relieved when Flynn opens the door in the same configuration of accessories, quickly replaced by a few minutes of mutual staring as they are introduced to each other without facial coverings for the first time.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"Oh, right." He moves out of the doorway, looking sheepish. Jackson can feel his face burning as he ducks inside.

"Tamika, this is my partner, Mr. Jackson. Jackson, this is my daughter, Tamika."

"Nice to meet you," Jackson says, shaking her hand. "Your dad's told me a lot about you. I heard you won the science fair last week!"

"Yeah, mine was the only volcano with real lava! Dad's told me a lot about you, too," she adds.

"All good, I hope."

"Mostly. He told me about the time you tried asking a hooded figure for directions."

Of course he did. Flynn tells everyone that story.

"I was on a lot of allergy medication that day."

"He said you said that."

"All right, Tamika, stop embarrassing Mr. Jackson."

"Hey, you told me that story."

"At the time I wasn't planning on having him over to the house. Now set the table for us while I try to teach him how to actually cook food before eating it."

Flynn steers him into the kitchen. It's neither big nor fancy, but it's clean and feels homey. He spends much of the lesson peering over his partner's shoulder as he explains how to make some very simple chicken and watching potatoes and vegetables boil on the stove. It is not the most thrilling evening Jackson's ever had, but it's pleasant enough in its own way.

"Okay, enough watching. Time to put your skills to the test."

Jackson is puzzled. "You want me to make a second dinner?"

"No, no," he laughs. "I just want you to mash these potatoes."

"Oh. Yeah, okay, I can do that." He takes the offered torture implement from Flynn and takes it to the potatoes.

"Jesus, Jackson, have you honestly never done this?" says Flynn after about thirty seconds of starchy carnage.

"No?"

"For the love of-- come here." He stands behind Jackson and repositions his hands with his own, demonstrating the proper mashing technique. Jackson can feel his face flushing again and immediately turns his attention to the potatoes. After a few passes, Flynn seems satisfied enough with his progress to step back, only darting in again to add more milk.

Dinner turns out delicious, even if Jackson is finding it weirdly difficult to meet Flynn's eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

### JACKSON

"What do you think goes on in there?" Jackson asks as the two of them stare at the tall obsidian walls of the Night Vale Dog Park.

"Nothing I want to know about," answers Flynn. "Or maybe they're just planning their parade."

"You've got no imagination. Do you think there are any actual dogs in there?"

"What."

"You know, hooded figure dogs. Dogs in hoods."

Flynn raises an eyebrow. "You been into your allergy meds again?"

"...Maybe."

"You coming over for dinner again tonight?"

"Definitely."

### FLYNN

Jackson's becoming something of a fixture around the house.

He comes over for dinner nearly every night now, spending an hour or so in the kitchen with Flynn, ostensibly learning how to cook, but mostly just to spend time with a friend. And that's not even the extent of it. He washes the dishes, watches TV with him after dinner, and helps Tamika with her homework (Jackson is surprisingly good at book reports). Once he even vacuumed.

Flynn knows he probably _should_ , especially with fraternization rules being what they are, but he can't bring himself to mind.


	7. Chapter 7

### JACKSON

"I can't wait until we get a new assignment," Jackson says as they surveil the private library from the safety of the cruiser.

"Me neither," says Flynn.

"He could at least _read_ the books if he's going to strut around pantsless all day."

"Hmm," Flynn acknowledges.

"I mean, is it really that much fun to just stand in front of a window with your junk out?"

"I really couldn't tell you, buddy."

The dispatcher's bored-sounding voice cuts in over the soothing tones of the local newscaster. "Car 54, this is dispatch."

"Flynn here."

"Jackson also here!"

"There's a 12-15 happening in the Ralph's parking lot. You're being reassigned to cover it, since your current mission is low-priority."

"I really hope so," mutters Jackson. Flynn elbows him in the ribs.

"Acknowledged. Flynn out."

"12-15...invasion of mole people? In the _Ralph's parking lot_?"

"I guess so. You'd think they'd find somewhere easier to tunnel, but orders are orders. Hit it, Jackson."

He flips on the siren and peels away from the curb as fast as possible. Flynn frowns at his driving. Jackson grins back at him.

With Jackson's driving and their stop-sign immunity, they get to the Ralph's in a matter of minutes, spinning to a stop in the middle of the parking lot. The grocery store and surrounding area is in chaos. The mole people have torn up a good chunk of the ground with their digging and tunnelling and are terrorizing the patrons as they try to escape. There are two more teams of their Secret Police comrades already on-scene, swinging bronze swords (the official weapon of mole-person-fighting) at any talpids that get close enough. Flynn retrieves their swords from the trunk and tosses one to Jackson just in time for him to take down their first attacker.

They fight back-to-back for some time, bits of mole flying through the air as they hack and slash, but one of the other pairs asks for assistance and one of them is compelled to help.

"Go, I'll be fine," says Jackson, decapitating the nearest mole-person.

"I'm not going to leave you alone in the middle of an invasion of hostiles! Are you out of your mind?"

"Not any more than usual."

"Just -- come with me, all right?"

"No, I can't! There are people trapped over there, but one of us needs to play back-up for Rodriguez and Black. So go!"

Flynn hesitates for a moment, but eventually chooses "irresponsibility" over "dereliction of duty".

"I'll be back as soon as possible," he calls over his shoulder as he runs over to the other officers. "Be careful, all right?"

In retrospect, he should have chosen "dereliction". There's a reason every officer has a partner, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

### FLYNN

Black and Rodriguez are trapped where the invaders are thickest, swarming the two completely. Flynn's arrival seems to have been unexpected, however, and with their limited sight above ground, they never see him coming. He chops his way through with surprising ease, only the last few ranks even putting up a token resistance.

The other officers are in fairly rough shape from the fight before Flynn's timely arrival, so he has to spend a few extra minutes patching them up and bringing them back to a state approaching combat readiness. Rodriguez shakes it off first.

"I've got Black," she says. "Go take care of your rookie; it looks like he needs it."

She's right -- they've lured Jackson into a trap; more mole people have sprung up from the ground to surround him on all sides. Flynn starts sprinting, damning his weapon for being short-range, damning the mole people for attacking, damning himself for ever leaving him.

In what is either a spectacular display of cruelty or just the inevitable absurdity of this universe, he arrives just in time to watch one of them thrust six claws into Jackson's back.

"JACKSON!"

There are approximately fourteen mole people in the area. Roughly three minutes later, there are none.

There is only a man in a short cape and a leather balaclava clutching the bleeding body of a fallen friend. And fourteen mole corpses.

"Jackson. Jackson, can you hear me?" he asks, desperately, pulling the balaclava off his face. "Come on, buddy. You're going to be fine. The ambulance is on its way, just hang on, all right? Jackson?"

"Danny," he says, softly and with some strain.

"What?"

"Danny. My name is Danny."

"Mike," Flynn says, giving him a small smile that he doesn't really feel.

"Nice to meet you, Mike." He coughs. There's blood in it. "Do a dying man a favour and take your mask off."

"What? Why?"

"I'd like to go out looking at a friendly face, not -- _cough_ \-- the lead in some German dungeon porno."

Mike Flynn takes his mask off. "It's a good thing you're not going to die, because then I'd have to tell your mother your last words were 'German dungeon porno'."

Danny Jackson laughs. More blood drips out of his mouth. "I don't know, she might think it's funny. But just for your sake, I'll tell you something more important."

"Yeah?"

"I love you, man."

He drops into unconsciousness after that.

It starts to rain. It washes the blood off Jackson's face and the tears off Flynn's.

A siren wails in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is optional -- if you like your Downer Endings, leave off here.
> 
> Since I don't, there's a more pleasant epilogue.


	9. Chapter 9

### EPILOGUE

"I'm sorry for leaving you, you know. With the mole people."

"You tell me that every day."

"It's true, every day."

"Look, I've recovered. You can stop feeling guilty about it."

"I don't know if I'd call that _recovered_ , Danny."

"Close enough. I'm back on the force and everything. And you have to admit, I'm a lot better at recon now."

Flynn glares at him.

"What?"

"What have I told you about that?"

Jackson sighs. "'Stop making ghost jokes or I'll ask the Commandant for a new partner.'"

"Exactly."

"You wouldn't, though."

"I would." Flynn stalks off into the breakroom.

Jackson sticks his head through the wall between them. "No, you wouldn't."

"Stop doing that, you're getting ectoplasm everywhere. And yes, I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"What makes you so sure of that, Officer of Christmas Past?"

"You like me too much."

Flynn has to concede.


End file.
